Page 26 of Into the Starlight (Secrets of Sweetwater Crossing #3)
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You love me?” Could it be true? The past two days had been filled with unexpected revelations, first the almost unbelievable story of Irmgard’s deceit, then the lengths to which Miss Heppel’s long-ago fascination with Clive Finley had driven her. In between there’d been Burke’s equally unexpected proposal of marriage. Though he’d said that it was what he wanted and what he believed God intended him to do, not once had he mentioned the all-important word: love.
“I do.” Though the moon was only a tiny sliver, the starlight was bright enough to reveal the sincerity in Burke’s expression.
Grateful that they’d reached the bridge, Joanna leaned against the railing as she tried to control the pounding of her heart. Was it possible that Burke’s feelings were as deep as hers, and if that was true, did it change anything? There were still obstacles to surmount, problems to resolve.
“I think I began to fall in love with you the day Della and I arrived when you showed us the library before you took us to our rooms. You were so strong, so confident, and so caring.”
Vaguely, Joanna recalled Burke calling her sweetheart when he’d found her sobbing after reading Marta’s letter. She’d been so distraught that she’d barely heard it. He’d spoken of friendship, of caring, of wanting to help her. Now he claimed he loved her and had for a while. She started to shake her head, to deny that she was any of those things he’d described. The day she’d returned to Sweetwater Crossing, she’d been overwhelmed by the fact that Finley House, which she’d believed would be her refuge, no longer felt like home. She hadn’t been strong. She hadn’t been confident. But she had been caring. That much was true. And if Burke had seen her as more than she was, she’d accept the compliment, even though it was undeserved.
Burke shifted his weight, moving so that only inches separated them. “I’d never met a woman like you. Even though I knew I could never be worthy of you, you fascinated me and made me want to learn everything about you. That desire has never stopped. It’s only increased.”
Those were words every woman wanted to hear, balm to a battered spirit. Joanna wished she could tell Burke she’d fallen in love at the same time, but she hadn’t, and she wouldn’t lie. “I was intrigued by you from the beginning,” she admitted, “but my bereavement was so recent that I didn’t consider that I might be falling in love again.”
He didn’t seem bothered by her admission. “Then you do love me? What you feel is more than simply caring?”
There was no question about that. Joanna had told her sisters that she might be in love with Burke, but the truth was, there was no “might” about it. When she’d searched her heart that night, she’d admitted that what she felt was love, deep and abiding love. But even then, she’d known she could not marry him.
“I do love you, but—”
Burke laid his finger on her lips to keep her from completing the sentence. “There should be no buts. We love each other. That’s what matters. That’s why we should marry.”
But it wasn’t that simple. Joanna’s heart wanted to say yes; her mind shouted no.
“Love isn’t the only thing that matters. We need to be practical and think about the future.”
“I have thought about the future—a future with you and our children. That’s what I want.”
Burke sounded certain, but Joanna’s fears drowned out his assurance. “You can say that, but I’m afraid that if we marry and you lose the opportunity to follow your dream, your love will die.”
As a frog croaked, then plopped into the water, Burke shook his head slowly. “Do you believe your love would die if something I did prevented you from ever again playing the piano?”
“No.” How could he even think that? “I enjoy being a pianist. I like the idea that my music can touch someone’s heart or help heal someone’s spirit, but if it were a choice between being a musician or loving you, you’d win every time.”
“Then why won’t you believe that I feel the same way?”
“I don’t know.” Joanna was silent for a moment, pondering his question. He was right in sensing that there were other barriers keeping her from agreeing to be his wife. The problem was, she could not identify them. All she knew was that something held her back just as an anchor kept a boat from leaving port.
“Maybe it’s because I don’t believe I deserve someone as wonderful as you. You said you didn’t feel worthy of me, but it’s the other way around. I’m an ordinary girl.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Joanna. You’re not ordinary to me. You’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. I don’t know what the future will bring us, but the one thing I’m certain about is that I want to spend every day of that future showing you how much I love you.” Burke glanced in all directions, then smiled. “Right now there’s something else I want to do.”
Though she was almost speechless from the beauty of his declaration of love, Joanna managed to eke out the question that was foremost in her mind. “What is that?”
“This.” Burke took a step closer, then lowered his head to press his lips to hers.
It wasn’t Joanna’s first kiss, but it was the first time a man’s lips had sent shivers from her head to her toes, the first time her pulse had raced so much that she felt dizzy, the first time every one of her senses was heightened. Afterward, she couldn’t have said how long it lasted, only that when the kiss ended, she felt both exhilarated and bereft.
“Oh, Burke. That was wonderful.” She laid her fingers on her mouth, remembering the sweet sensation of having his lips on hers.
“There’ll be more if you say you’ll marry me.”
Her doubts and her fears had begun to fade under the force of his nearness, but Joanna knew she couldn’t agree. Not yet. “I want to marry you. I do, but I don’t want to rush into it.” Until she could identify and eradicate whatever was causing her to hesitate, it would be wrong to agree. As much as she wanted her baby to enter the world with two parents to raise him, she couldn’t risk Burke’s future happiness. “I want us both to be completely certain that it’s the right thing to do.”
“I’m already certain.” Burke’s fingers traced the outline of her lips, sending more waves of pleasure through her. “How long will it take you to feel the same way? Do you agree with my mother that a week is the right length of time to consider an important decision?”
If he kept touching her like that, Joanna would agree within seven seconds, not seven days. It was tempting, so tempting, but she knew she needed to wait longer.
“I need more time than that. Let’s say a month. Ask me again on January first, and I’ll give you my answer.”
In the meantime, she would tell no one what she’d learned from Miss Heppel’s diary. Those were secrets that had no reason to be revealed.
Her heart pounding with anticipation of what the new year might bring, Joanna smiled at Burke. “It’s starting to get a bit cold, and we should probably talk to Mrs. Carmichael tonight.”
He chuckled. “If that was supposed to dampen my ardor, it failed.”
They found Mrs. Carmichael in the kitchen, sipping the warm milk she claimed helped her sleep.
“You two look like you have an announcement to make,” the older woman said as she laid her cup back on the saucer. “Will there be another wedding before the end of the year?”
Joanna tried but failed to keep a blush from coloring her cheeks.
“I’m afraid not.” Burke winked. “Craig warned me that the Vaughn girls are hard to convince, and Joanna’s proving him right. We did want to talk to you, though. It’s about the day my uncle left Sweetwater Crossing.”
When Mrs. Carmichael’s smile faded, Joanna wasn’t certain which part of Burke’s explanation was responsible.
“I told you everything I know, what little that was. The last time anyone could recall seeing Clive was that Saturday morning. When he didn’t come to church the next day, the speculation began. It was all anyone could talk about.”
“Did the sheriff or the mayor try to learn what had happened?” Joanna hoped that by including both men in her question she wouldn’t reveal the reason for it.
Mrs. Carmichael shook her head. “The sheriff said Clive was a grown man. If he chose to leave without making his farewells, that was his right. He refused to entertain the notion of foul play.”
“And the mayor agreed.” Though he phrased it as a statement, Burke asked the question that was on the tip of Joanna’s tongue.
“If you mean Malcolm Alcott, he wasn’t mayor yet, but he wasn’t even here. He and Mary were on their wedding trip. As I recall, they came back a week or so later.”
It was as Joanna and Burke had thought. Malcolm Alcott may have been angry with Burke’s uncle, but he had nothing to do with his disappearance.
Burke stood by the front door, reflecting on what had—and hadn’t—happened in the past week as he waited for Joanna to join him. He was more than ready to begin a formal courtship, giving Joanna gifts, taking her to supper at Ma’s, letting everyone in town know that she was the woman with whom he wanted to share his life, but Craig had advised otherwise.
“Don’t set the grapevine to speculating,” he’d said the day after that memorable first kiss. “Joanna would hate that, and it’ll detract from Della and Harold’s wedding. Let them have their day.”
Recognizing the wisdom of Craig’s counsel, Burke hadn’t deviated from his previous routine. He and Joanna strolled around town each night, doing nothing that would cause the gossips to suspect anything had changed. But it had. Burke sensed that Joanna’s resistance was weakening, and that filled him with hope.
He’d already sent Dr. Fielding a letter, withdrawing his application to be his assistant. Even if Fielding would agree to hire a married man, Burke knew that was not the future he wanted. What he wanted was to stay in Sweetwater Crossing. As Della had said the day she’d accepted Harold’s proposal, it had become home.
Della’s home was with Harold; Burke’s was where Joanna was, and that was here. Even if she refused to marry him, he would remain here, helping Louisa treat the residents’ injuries and illnesses and doing everything he could to make Joanna and her baby’s lives happy ones.
“Did you have any special Christmas traditions when you were growing up?” the woman who occupied so many of his thoughts asked as they descended the steps.
With Christmas less than three weeks away, it was foremost on everyone’s mind. Noah bubbled with excitement over the coming holiday, and Beulah bemoaned the fact that she wouldn’t be able to spend it at Finley House. Though Emily had invited Beulah and her family to join them, her parents had insisted that they’d spend this Christmas the way they had all the previous ones, attending church, then returning to their own home.
Joanna’s question revived happy memories. “It was the only time of the year that my mother made gingerbread cookies,” Burke told her. “She didn’t like the taste of molasses, but it was one of my father’s favorites, so she made them in his honor. My sisters and I used to count down the days until Christmas Eve. That’s when we were allowed to eat the first one.”
Joanna smiled. “We had special cookies too. My stepmother’s mother brought recipes from Germany, and my mother continued the tradition of spending the month of December baking German cookies. One that always made us laugh was called Pfeffernusse. That means ‘pepper nuts.’ Every year the three of us would announce that we wouldn’t eat cookies with pepper in them.”
The warmth in Joanna’s voice told him the complaints had been in jest. “But you did.”
“We did. They weren’t our favorites, but it wouldn’t have been Christmas without them. Have you ever eaten them?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“I imagine Emily will bake some this year, so you’ll be able to decide whether pepper should be an ingredient in a dessert.”
“Am I allowed to be honest?”
Joanna let out a laugh. “Of course, as long as you eat at least three. They’re small, so if you stop after one, Emily will claim you didn’t give your taste buds a chance to savor them.”
Even if the cookies verged on inedible, which he doubted, since Emily was an excellent cook, Burke was looking forward to the holiday. “I can see that I’m going to enjoy Christmas in Sweetwater Crossing.”
And if Joanna agreed to be his wife, the next Christmas would be even better, for they’d be a family.
“I hope so. This will be a happier holiday than last year. It was only a few days before Christmas that I received Emily’s letter with the news of our parents’ deaths. And then on New Year’s Day, I was diagnosed with scarlet fever.”
“But this year we’ll celebrate Della and Harold’s wedding, and on New Year’s, we’ll become officially engaged.”
“Maybe.”
“Have you started to feel the baby move?”
Joanna tried not to let her surprise show. When Gertrude had invited her to have lunch with her, she’d expected the conversation to revolve around Christmas plans or Della and Harold’s wedding, both of which were the major topics of discussion in Sweetwater Crossing. She had not thought Gertrude would want to talk about Joanna’s pregnancy, particularly since her own had ended with the premature delivery of a stillborn baby.
Seeking to change the subject, Joanna gestured toward the plate of freshly baked biscuits. “These are delicious, so light and flaky.”
But Gertrude was not to be diverted. “It’s the most wonderful feeling. When my little Clive started fluttering inside me, I was the happiest person on Earth.”
Once again Gertrude had managed to surprise Joanna. “You planned to call your baby Clive if it was a boy?” She would have expected Gertrude and Thomas to choose either Thomas or Wilbur, honoring the boy’s father or grandfather.
“Oh yes. Thomas agreed that my father would have wanted him named after his friend. Besides, Clive Neville has a nice ring to it. Don’t you agree?”
“I do.” And naming a baby after the man who’d made an impact on the town wasn’t much different from the Gleasons naming their son after Louisa. “Now tell me what spices you used in your peach jam. It’s excellent.”
This time Gertrude accepted the change of subject.
Burke patted his pocket, grinning when the envelope he’d stashed inside crinkled. He hadn’t imagined it. Even though Christmas was a week away, he’d received one of the best gifts imaginable. The only thing better than this would be Joanna’s agreement to marry him, but perhaps when she learned what Felix had written, the last of her doubts would vanish and Burke would have another early Christmas present.
If he were a whistling man, he would have whistled. If he were given to skipping, he would have skipped. As it was, he walked briskly back to Finley House, hoping Joanna was home from whatever errands she’d been running today.
“Joanna,” he called as he entered the building that had been his home for three months. “Are you here?” The parlor was dark, the piano silent, but sounds of laughter came from the kitchen. Burke strode through the hallway and entered Emily’s domain. As he’d hoped, Joanna was standing next to her sister, apparently helping to bake cookies.
Both women turned. “If you’re looking for some freshly baked cookies, you’re too early,” Emily told him.
“I’m sure they’ll be delicious, but I was hoping to talk to your sister. Can you spare her for a few minutes?”
Emily’s smile turned into a grin. “You can have her for the rest of the afternoon. One helper is all I need, and Noah will be here soon.”
Though she feigned outrage, Joanna’s frown soon turned into a smile. “It’s hardly a secret that I can’t cook as well as you, but be honest, Emily. I’m better than Noah.”
“Yes, you are, but I suspect that whatever Burke wants to discuss is more important than a batch of cookies.”
It was. Burke didn’t know how Emily had realized that, but he wasn’t complaining.
The speed with which Joanna washed and dried her hands made Burke’s already high spirits soar. Unless he was gravely mistaken, she was as eager to spend time with him as he was with her.
“The sun is still on the front porch,” she told him. “Do you want to sit there?”
It was as good a place as any and had the advantage of being close. The sooner he could share his news with her the better.
“Something good happened, didn’t it?” Joanna asked as they settled onto the pair of chairs they always chose.
“Something very good.” Burke pulled the envelope from his pocket. “I received a letter from Felix today.”
“Is everything all right in Samuels?”
Burke shrugged. “He didn’t mention that. The letter was about what happened the night Mrs. Arnold died.”
The furrows that formed between Joanna’s eyes betrayed her concern. “How could that be good?”
“It seems I didn’t give her a fatal dose of morphine.” Somehow he managed to keep his voice as calm as if he were reciting yesterday’s weather, even though Felix’s letter had lifted the burden Burke had carried for so long. He’d found a measure of peace in Joanna’s belief that God had used Burke’s mistake to end Mrs. Arnold’s pain, but the sorrow that he’d made a fatal mistake had remained. Now it was gone.
“Then she died of natural causes?” Joanna shook her head. “That can’t be, because you said four grains of morphine had been dispensed.”
Trust Joanna to have remembered the details. “That’s right. I gave her two. Edna gave her the other two.” That was something Burke would never have suspected.
“I told you I was so tired that I left the infirmary to clear my head. Edna saw me and thought I was abandoning her mother, so she went to the infirmary. Since I’d neglected to record what I’d done, she assumed that either I’d forgotten or no longer cared that her mother was in pain. She knew it was past time for another injection, so she gave it to her but didn’t tell anyone.”
According to Felix, Edna had believed that Burke’s delay in giving her mother morphine had caused her death, which was why she’d blamed him. But when she’d read the records and learned that four grains had been dispensed, she’d realized that she was the one who’d delivered the fatal dose.
“Edna’s not a doctor. How did she know how to give her mother an injection?”
“That’s probably the simplest part of this story. Felix had been training her to assist him. I’m certain he never thought she’d inject a patient unless he was supervising, but he didn’t count on her wanting to do everything she could to ease her mother’s pain.”
Joanna was silent for a second, absorbing the story that still astonished Burke. Then she spoke. “Why didn’t Edna admit what she’d done before this?”
“According to Felix, she didn’t know that she’d made a mistake. Neither one of us told her how much morphine had been dispensed that night, because we didn’t want to add to her distress. It was only a couple weeks ago that Edna saw the records and realized what had happened. Felix said she was devastated.”
The letter had included a postscript from Edna, begging for Burke’s forgiveness, and a second postscript from Felix, saying they both regretted the harsh words they’d exchanged before Burke left Samuels. Forgiveness was easy, in part because Burke’s regret was tempered by the way Edna’s mistake had strengthened his desire to forge a new life for himself and had opened his heart to the possibility of a future with Joanna here in Sweetwater Crossing.
“You must be relieved that you didn’t make a mistake with the dosage.”
That was an understatement. The letter had assuaged many of Burke’s fears and filled him with hope. “I am. I made a mistake—there’s no question about that—by not making a note of the injection on the chart, but at least I didn’t give Mrs. Arnold an overdose.”
Joanna must have sensed that he still harbored feelings of guilt, because she asked, “Is there a rule that says you must write what treatments you’ve done as soon as you complete them?”
“No, but it’s always a good idea to do it soon after.” He’d been so exhausted at the time that his handwriting might have been illegible. That was one of the reasons he’d left the infirmary to take a walk.
Shaking her head as if dismissing his explanation, Joanna said, “I know you felt an enormous guilt when Mrs. Arnold died, but don’t you see, Burke? You weren’t responsible. You had no way of knowing that Edna, or anyone, for that matter, would come into the infirmary while you were gone. You have no reason to feel guilty. You did the right thing. You eased Mrs. Arnold’s pain.” Joanna laid her hand on his and squeezed it. “I used to hate it when Emily said, ‘I told you so,’ but I’m going to say it now. I told you you were a fine doctor, and you are.” She paused and gave him a smile. “Sweetwater Crossing is fortunate to have you here, and so am I.” Her smile broadened. “I love you, Burke, but before you ask, I’m not yet ready to make a decision.”
It wasn’t everything he’d hoped for, but Joanna’s unwavering belief in him was even more valuable than Felix’s letter. That had exonerated him; Joanna’s love exhilarated and encouraged him. New Year’s Day couldn’t come soon enough.